


Three's Company

by HelmetParty (orphan_account)



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/HelmetParty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things that people said to him had set in very early. He never forgot that his life would amount to nothing, and that nobody wanted to hear what he had to say. He knows it's not an excuse but it's something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's Company

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired and its 5 am so take this dumb shit.

 Excuses don't matter. What he did will never be forgiven, and lying in that yellow suit from older days, he didn't want to be. Everything was wrapping up the way he knew it would someday. But maybe it wasn't all his fault.

 Scott's memory was...not right. None of his memories were very coherent. Childhood trauma had perhaps caused this, combined with his lack of positive representation in early days. He could barely remember his mother, who was a very kind woman, yet cold and distant from Scott. His father was a drunk who liked to yell and hit. He remembers bits and pieces from those days, but one that stands out was when his mother told him that his feelings weren't valid. 

 "Nobody wants to hear this trauma nonsense Scott. You were never abused."

 After hearing this, at perhaps age twelve, he would cower in his room and sob for hours on end. Scott felt isolated, felt like nobody wanted to hear about anything he had to say. With no friends or loving parents to talk or cry to, he grew up alone and quiet. No-one ever stopped to gently run their fingers though his hair or give him a soft hug. Nobody would ever ask if he was alright, nobody would ever keep their promises to him. Scott would often curl into a ball in the corner and sob.

 His father called him stupid. Worthless. Untalented and a burden on their family.

 His mother would invalidate him. Tell him he's too talkative. Too rude when the neighborhood boys would hit him.

 The kids at school isolated him. They ignored him when Scott spoke. They embarrassed him in front of the whole class.

 He walked with a heavy heart from early on. He learned to take care of himself very early on. The rule that nobody would love him was carved into his personality, his being itself.

 He would, and never did, unlearn this thought.

 As he himself grew, a thick skin grew around him. Scott wouldn't allow himself to make friends. Well, real friends anyway. He put in a kind personality and a smile, hiding the fact that he wanted to bash everyone's fucking face in. This attracted people who thought they could gain something from him, but they never were able to. He would kindly decline every offer that was made, be it a request for cash or a favor for a ride. The people who made these requests would often find themselves infuriated, and they would leave shortly after.

 Not like Scott cared. He was used to it.

 High school passed. The bruises became easier to carry, and the thoughts and impulses got worse. He graduated with barely passing scores. 

 "You'll never get into college with these" his mother remarked once after reading his final report card. "At least you passed."

 It was all downhill from there.

 He became reckless. Awfully reckless and bound to die in a tragic accident while crossing the road drunk or something. 

 He went frequently to bars where he wasn't asked for his ID. He fucked every man or woman he got his hands on. He drank and did drugs and had extremely unsafe and shady sex. He was even ruffied once, and after waking up sore and bruised and broken in the middle of some city he didn't recognize, he just wandered and found himself home again.

 His mother was upset. His father beat him for the last time.

 Sometime a few months after he graduated high school, Scott moved out with only two thousand dollars saved from working in High school. He rented a shitty apartment that didn't ask for too much paperwork. He felt better being able to lay in his own bed without the fear of being beaten for once. However, he sometimes saw things that would make him cower like a child. He heard things in the middle of the night and felt His neck being clenched. His impulses even got worse with the enlargement of his isolation.

 In this, he scouted the local papers for jobs that didn't require much qualification. He wanted to not be home in his apartment all day to see the things, and besides, rent had to be paid. He found an opening as a cook at Fazbears. He gets it.

 He's promoted months later.

 He's promoted again after that.

 He makes a genuine amount of money and finally moves out of his apartment in the shit whole that was the middle of the city. Scott finds a decent few room rental home in an, albeit not great but better, part of town. Its nice and Scott paints and decorates it to look like the house of a mentally sane, totally straight white man. 

 Hell. He even goes to therapy.

 He hides many things from this therapist. He doesn't tell the kind looking woman about the things he sees or the impulses to fucking tear everyone's throat out. Scott refrains from telling too much about his trauma, as well, instead he talks about how he feels. Even when the woman calmly asks why he feels this way, and even questions abuse, he doesnt talk about it.

 It makes him uncomfortable. But even so, he likes this woman. 

 He feels awful and sick to his stomach when his brain tells him to kick her ribs in.

 The therapist prescribes some pills to deal with depression and tells Scott that he would do well with a dog. He had never had a dog growing up, but this makes him think. That very same day he heads to the local pound and finds a beautiful older aged German Sheppard. He names him Salt, his grey hairs and kind blue eyes just felt right with that name.

 Salt is slow yet strong, and enjoys sleeping with Scott in bed. Scott jokes with the dog that he's the only friend he'll ever need.

Scott feels his heart sink when he realizes that that's probably his only friend too.

 Manager Scott Murphy. 

 Scott enjoys being manager. He likes his co-workers and genuinely believes that they're not scum. I'm fact, Angela, assistant manager, is beautiful and kind and amazing. She smiles kindly at Scott and will often ask him if he wants to go out or go to dinner.

 A year later, they are engaged.

 Three months later after that they are married.

 Neither of Scott's parents show. They were not invited.

 Scott learns to trust again. His impulses are rare, he feels less depressed, and talks about his traumas and life issues with his wife. Angela does the same. They are in mutual correspondence and bring each other up from the garbage that is life.

 What's more, Angela has never purposely hurt him. Her family is nice and accepting, her little brother looks up to Scott and asks him for advice on girls sometimes. Salt finds other dogs to play with, even in his old age. 

 They move into a bigger house. It was Angela's grandparents, but since they had passed away only two months earlier, Angela's parents give it to the newly wedded couple. They move in straight away. She takes her Father's dog in, a golden retriever named Speed. He and Salt get along well and are both old.

 They joke about the dogs talking about what it's like to be old.

 Everything is well.

 They adopt kids the year after.

 Scott earns a raise.

 Angela gets promoted to lead art director at a film company.

 Everything. Is. Fine.

 Until it isn't.

 The dogs pass.

 Scott becomes irritable. He becomes stressed. His symptoms come back.

 He can't stand being around children at the Pizzeria all day. He lashes out at the parent of one of them.

 He and Angela fight.

 His child is killed.

 His older son kills himself.

 Angela blames it all on him.

 She files for divorce. 

 A new pizzeria is opened. That's good. That's okay.

 The new pizzeria is being set up.

 He murders five kids in it.

 Scott gets a call one day from a mental health institution. Angela tried to kill herself.

 He wakes up one morning covered in blood and guts with no idea or comprehension of who's it was.

 A year passed. Angela is found dead.

 Scott is alone.

 He finds out the bodies of the children are in the suits. 

 This is okay. It could be worse.

 Two years pass. Scott is on the night shift himself since nobody else deserves to go through this.

 He becomes infatuated with Foxy. This takes up most of his time.

 They hire a new night watchman. Scott is too damn tired to keep staying up for days on end. He feels bad that whoever has to take it up next is probably going to die.

 Mike Schmidt, huh? 

 He comes in for an interview and Scott hires him on the spot.

 For Mike's first night, Scott goes the extra mile (even though he hasn't slept in four days) and works with him. Mike doesn't scream or fight when he finds out that the animatronics come to life. In fact, he's rather calm about the whole ordeal. This makes Scott confused, but he doesn't question it. All he cares about now is getting to go home.

 Over the next week he and Mike get to know each other more. Scott is genuinely surprised when he finds out that Mike is like him, traumatic past minus the whole murdering children and dead family thing. They bond over drinks at a bar one morning, and the next moment they're fucking back at Scott''s apartment.

 Things go well for a while. 

 Until Mike requests a day off. A family reunion. Scott agrees to cover his shift. 

 That night he dismantles the animatronics, which is the worst mistake he's ever made.

 They come back. Their broken foggy bodies appear in the hallways. Bones breaking the wrong way, guts spilled and holes in their bodies. The children that Scott remembers too well are coming after him.

 And he cockily ends up in the old Spring suit, where in which he fails to realize is too wet to be anywhere near safe.

 The locks come down on his body.

 He shakes violently. 

 He deserves this.

 He _knows_ he deserves this.

 The children's faces do not smile, they do not look happy. They simply fade away.

 Scott sobs for a while, feeling his bones break and snap under the locks. His vision blurs but he see's the dark red life of his body swamp the ground. He's never felt pain like this in his life before, no, not like this. And he's afraid of what's coming next. Hell, he assumes, it's the place where he belongs anyway.

 Suddenly, his mind stops worrying. The pain fades and his eyes stare at the wall, yet he doesn't see. His mother's words ring in his head, yet he ignores them.

 He feels peaceful.

 That is, until he wakes up again.

**Author's Note:**

> I know its bad but i need to write more. Thanks for reading.


End file.
